Cleansing
The left hand half was marked SHIFTER, in unobtrusive white lettering. It had a white lever inset in the side. Apple would have been proud of it. It seemed to ooze expensive-ness. I carefully slipped it back in my pocket. In the other hand I was surprised to see a reflective black container. I cautiously unscrewed the lid, and then wafted some air above the spout towards me. It smelled vaguely antiseptic. I tipped a drop out. It was green. It was, apparently, disinfectant.
There was an impatient cough from the man standing behind me. This reminded me of a few questions I had meant to ask.
I began with ‘Where am I?’
‘You’re ho-‘
‘Who are you?’, ‘What happened?’ and ‘What…happened?’ followed swiftly after the first.
‘You’re ho-‘
‘Who are you? What is…? Where am I?’ spouted uncontrollably from my mouth.
‘You-‘
‘What happened?’ I shouted, my vocal box now having succumbed to the pressure and coming along for the ride. The man in front of me was silent. I swallowed.
‘You have something for me,’ the man continued, with a glare. He pointed at my right hand.
‘This?’ I questioned.
‘The one that isn’t the Shifter.’
I held out my right hand. He took the flask.
‘What’s this?’ asked the man.
(I had three brilliant flashes of insight. The first was that the man had an English accent, which was quickly followed by the second – an understanding that he didn’t really want to be here. The third was a sudden blast of self-analysis with the realisation that neither of the previous insights were all that brilliant, and in fact, had I been paying attention I would have picked it up earlier.)
‘What?’ I questioned, switching back to the real world. ‘This? I think it’s antiseptic.’
‘Anti…septic? We’ll work it out. Give me your hand.’
I held out my left hand, which I realised was still clutching the Shifter. The man pulled down the lever. It sprung back, like a poker machine. He handed the Shifter back, and hesitated.
‘…Thanks,’ he said.
I wanted to reply, but that dizzy blackness was patching in again. It was different this time, though. It was hard to tell, but it was almost, just slightly, less black.
There was an impatient cough from the man standing behind me. This reminded me of a few questions I had meant to ask.
I began with ‘Where am I?’
‘You’re ho-‘
‘Who are you?’, ‘What happened?’ and ‘What…happened?’ followed swiftly after the first.
‘You’re ho-‘
‘Who are you? What is…? Where am I?’ spouted uncontrollably from my mouth.
‘You-‘
‘What happened?’ I shouted, my vocal box now having succumbed to the pressure and coming along for the ride. The man in front of me was silent. I swallowed.
‘You have something for me,’ the man continued, with a glare. He pointed at my right hand.
‘This?’ I questioned.
‘The one that isn’t the Shifter.’
I held out my right hand. He took the flask.
‘What’s this?’ asked the man.
(I had three brilliant flashes of insight. The first was that the man had an English accent, which was quickly followed by the second – an understanding that he didn’t really want to be here. The third was a sudden blast of self-analysis with the realisation that neither of the previous insights were all that brilliant, and in fact, had I been paying attention I would have picked it up earlier.)
‘What?’ I questioned, switching back to the real world. ‘This? I think it’s antiseptic.’
‘Anti…septic? We’ll work it out. Give me your hand.’
I held out my left hand, which I realised was still clutching the Shifter. The man pulled down the lever. It sprung back, like a poker machine. He handed the Shifter back, and hesitated.
‘…Thanks,’ he said.
I wanted to reply, but that dizzy blackness was patching in again. It was different this time, though. It was hard to tell, but it was almost, just slightly, less black.
posted by nshady at
9:50 PM
3 Comments:
O-oh. Very interesting, nshady. We're getting much more on the paranormal side of Switchling now. I wonder what anti-septic has relation to the Switcher and Joel? Perhaps it is an invention only invented when Joel shows that man what it is? Perhaps there is a very.. Historical purpose of the Switcher? Could Joel be the "Switchling" of which this story is named after?
By
Anonymous, at 9:09 PM
nshady roxxorz my soxxorz
but all kidding aside, the story is coming along quote nicely, but the bit about reaching in to his left hand pocket and then got interrupted (in sensible), blurs the viewpoints a little - it goes from a narrative to a present tense interactive, all within a pair of brackets
-zen
By
Anonymous, at 9:26 PM
I knew that bit was unorthodox, but I just really liked the idea. I could have done it like how he interrupts earlier, but this was more interesting and I enjoyed writing it better.
:P
By
nshady, at 9:31 PM
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